


One January Night in Scotland

by Sevfan



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-15
Updated: 2014-08-15
Packaged: 2018-02-13 05:17:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2138403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sevfan/pseuds/Sevfan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry introduces Draco to the traditions of the Burns Night, with a few surprises to boot...</p>
            </blockquote>





	One January Night in Scotland

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J. K. Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books and Warner Brothers, Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
> 
> Beta: My thanks go out once again to Constant Vigilance. Thanks for keeping me safe! *wink* 
> 
> The Hex Files January 2006 Challenge: Choice #1--the fic must be 1000 words and must include a piece of poetry (either already published or original) and some tradition of Burns night.

**One January Night in Scotland**

“Harry, have you finished?” whispered Draco.

“The haggis? Yes.” 

“In that case, hand it over.”

“This is a formal dinner; I can’t scrape it onto your plate!”

“We’ll just discreetly switch plates and no one will be the wiser. Please, baby? I want more and those bloody waiters have disappeared.”

Harry glanced around and, assured that no one was looking, exchanged his plate for Draco’s. The blond immediately dug into the remains of haggis, shovelling it in as if he hadn’t eaten for days.

“I see you’re enjoying our national dish, Mr Malfoy!” exclaimed Morag MacDonald, the chairwitch of the Scottish Society for the Protection of War Orphans.

“Hmm,” mumbled Draco, his mouth full. When he had swallowed, he answered properly, “Oh yes, madam, very much! It is so delicious; I just had to have more. I hope my little faux-pas hasn’t offended you?” Draco gave her _that_ smile, the one that flustered both women and men, even the straight ones.

‘ _Draco could charm the gold off a Snitch_ ,’ thought Harry.

“Not at all, Mr Malfoy,” tittered Morag. “I like a laddy with an appetite.”

Harry couldn’t help but roll his eyes. 

“Ah, I have many of those, madam,” countered Draco, winking. 

Harry smirked into his whisky. ‘ _Like sucking my cock_.’

Morag gave Draco a playful swat. “You are incorrigible.”

“Always, madam.”

‘ _Now that’s the truth_ ,’ agreed Harry. 

“Is this your first Burns Night, Mr Malfoy?”

“Please, call me Draco. Yes, and I’m having a most enjoyable evening.”

“What about you, Mr Potter?”

Harry, having been ignored until then, was startled at being addressed. “Um, no, I’ve been once before.”

“Excellent! So you know what’s coming?” inquired the elderly witch.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Good, good. Tell me, Draco, can you dance a reel?”

“No, madam.”

“You must call me Morag! Not to worry, I’ll teach you. Now, if you both will excuse me, I am needed on stage.”

Draco took up the lady’s hand and kissed it. “I’ll look forward to it, _Morag_.” The witch blushed like a schoolgirl and left the table.

“Perhaps you two would like to be alone?” asked Harry sweetly. “I could always Apparate home.”

Draco regarded his boyfriend through narrowed eyes. “Very funny! What the fuck am I going to do? I don’t want to dance any bloody Scottish reel with her!”

“You charmed your way into it, Draco. You’ll just have to charm your way out,” said Harry matter-of-factly.

“Evil prat! Perhaps I can Obliviate her,” he pondered.

“Shh, Draco. Your _girlfriend_ is speaking.”

“Fuck you, Potter!” whispered Draco into Harry’s ear. 

“I’m counting on it,” answered Harry silkily.

Only the need for silence kept Draco from uttering a thinly veiled death threat in Harry’s direction. Morag introduced a wizard who arose and began to speak. Harry quickly realised that the man had been given the honour of delivering the Immortal Memory. As Harry listened to his stirring words on the life of Burns, he smiled as Draco slipped his hand in his. He gave it a little squeeze and leaned back against Draco’s shoulder. 

The evening progressed just as Harry remembered it, with the toast to the Lassies, recitations of Burns’ works, music and song. He watched as guest after guest arose and took their place at the podium, offering up their carefully prepared tribute to the Scottish hero. When at last Morag asked if there was anybody else who wished to speak, Draco watched in amazement as Harry stood and made his way to the dais to the roar of thunderous applause.

“Thank you,” said Harry. “I would just like to begin by thanking you for inviting us here. Draco and I are always ready to help the war orphans. Your organization does marvellous work and we thrilled to lend our support.” 

When the applause once again died down, Harry continued. “I first read this poem when I was a young boy. Its beauty touched me, even then. Now, I can say I truly understand its meaning. Before I begin, I must tell you that I have changed one tiny word. No offence is intended by my action, but it was necessary to suit my purpose. I’m sure that you will forgive me when you realise which word it is.” Harry placed his hand over his heart and bowed slightly. “With humblest apologies, Master Burns.

_O, my luve is like a red, red rose,_  
That's newly sprung in June.  
O, my luve is like a melodie,  
That's sweetly play'd in tune. 

_As fair art thou, my bonie lad,_  
So deep in luve am I,  
And I will luve thee still, my dear,  
Till a' the seas gang dry…”

Harry spoke in a clear, rich voice, his eyes never leaving Draco’s for even a fleeting second. When he finished the last verse, Harry murmured his thanks and made his way to Draco, falling into his embrace. 

Morag stood. “Thank you, Mr Potter. I don’t think I have ever heard a more touching rendition of that poem. You are forgiven for changing lass to lad.” She winked and added, “This time.”

Harry blushed as Draco pulled him out of the ballroom and into the corridor. “That was so beautiful, baby,” whispered Draco.

“I just wanted everyone to know how much I love you, my bonie lad.”

“Love you, too,” Draco murmured as he pulled Harry into a deep kiss.

Harry was the first to pull away. “I think they’re playing your song.”

Realising that it was a reel, Draco whined, “Let’s go home. Please?”

Harry just laughed as he dragged a struggling Draco back into the ballroom and then watched gleefully as Draco mastered the complicated dance. However, Draco got his revenge by telling Morag that Harry was just _dying_ to learn, too. The smirking blond raised his ‘wee dram’ in mock-toast each time Harry swung by, his green eyes speaking volumes. Draco knew he would pay later, but didn’t care. Really, he couldn’t keep his Slytherin side hidden all the time, now could he?

~Fin~

**Author's Note:**

>  _A Red, Red Rose_ by Robert Burns
> 
> The complete poem can be found here:  
> http://www.robertburns.org/works/444.shtml


End file.
